by Suzanne Robb
What happened was, I fell off the rope-swing. I've never fallen off anything before; I'm usually really good at climbing. Daddy calls me the “Spidergirl”, which I think is the perfect name. Sometimes, at night, I dream of having eight legs and twelve eyes, climbing up onto the roof of the farm. It is a really funny dream. I always remember it when I wake up, and it makes me laugh.
My knee feels a bit better now. Mommy put some special cream on it, which sounds tastier than it actually is. Euerghhh.
I'm looking out of the window now, waiting for Daddy to come riding up the path. Can't wait to hug him. He smells sweaty when he's been at work.
Daddy was not in a good mood when he got home. I ran to hug him, but he told me to go back inside and get washed up for dinner. I could tell he was in a mood because he didn't even kiss Mommy on the lips like he normally did; he just walked past her into the house. Maybe he didn't get his wage-rise again; that Mr McGregor has a lot to answer for.
At dinner, Daddy was really quiet. Mommy said grace, which wasn't the same as when Daddy does it. I don't think Mommy knows what to be thankful for, so she just rambled on about trees and birds for what seemed like forever. I was starving by the time she finished.
By the time I went to bed, Daddy was drunk. Mommy shouted at him. “It's not your fault Eddie died,' she said, although I've never heard of him. Mommy told Daddy to stop drinking because he was going to be sick. I don't think I've ever seen Daddy be sick because of the drink. I think he's quite used to it, to be honest.
I'm in bed now, writing this. Robbie is looking at me with those big eyes of his. I'd love to know what he's thinking; if he's like me, he's trying to figure out what killed Eddie Smith.
Hope it's not catching.
Goodnight Diary.
Dear Diary, something is very wrong in town. Mrs Drewery was late for lessons this morning. Usually I wouldn't care, especially because it was History, and I sometimes struggle to remember what I had for breakfast. What worries me, though, is Mrs Drewery is never late. The only time I remember her not turning up was about a year ago, when her daughter gave birth, which I think is a pretty reasonable excuse to skip a lesson.
Maybe her daughter is with child again?
I don't know. Mommy told me not to worry too much, and that I should come to my room and study on my own. Well, here I am, and I suppose you could call this study. I'm writing, aren't I?
Anyway, I think that Daddy felt a bit sick this morning. Mommy told him, “You should have listened to me, you old fool,' but I don't think he paid her much heed. He went to work in a bad mood; I hope that Mr McGregor doesn't get on Daddy's nerves too much today, or he might end up fighting. Would he lose his job if he punched Mr McGregor? I don't know, but I don't think that Daddy would care too much at the moment.
It's raining outside, so I have to stay in all day. I can see outside the window, and there's a man standing at the bottom of the farm, on the other side of the fence. I've been watching him most of the morning, but he doesn't seem to be doing a lot; just walking up and down, up and down. If Daddy were here I'm pretty sure he would go out and say something, but Mommy said that the man is not trespassing so there's nothing she can do.
I'm going to keep an eye on him, though. As soon as he comes through that fence, I'm going to tell Mommy.
The man is still there, only now there is another one. I think it's a lady; it's hard to tell from this distance. Why are they walking around in the rain. I'll bet they're freezing cold, and soaked to the bone. I've told Mommy about the new one, and she just locked the door. “They're doing nobody any harm all the way over there,' she said, but I don't think that's true; they're doing harm to themselves walking around in the freezing cold rain. I think they might have been drinking; I saw the man stumble and fall over. It took him ages to get back up, and guess what? The woman didn't help him. She walked straight over him, as if he wasn't there.
It made me laugh, but also a little sad for the drunken man on the floor. Maybe they're married, and they decided to get up this morning and start drinking. Daddy says that marriage can do that to a person.
I can hear the man now. I think he is crying, but I can't be sure. I have to open the window.
Okay, he's not speaking words, but he seems to be groaning. I think it's a safe bet; they're as pissed as Daddy was last night. The woman just growled at the man, and tried to scratch his face. This is getting really exciting now. I hope Mommy is watching from the other window.
Oh, Daddy, where are you? The drunken couple climbed over the fence and are now walking up and down the farm. Mommy has made sure that all of the doors and windows are secure, but she's pacing around as if she's got a snake in her breeches. Daddy should be back real soon, though, and Lord help those fools when he is. I've seen him shoot; he can blow the leg off a fly from a thousand yards. It's true, I've seen him do it.
Mommy and Daddy are talking in the kitchen. Daddy had to shoot the drunken couple in the head. Mommy asked him why he had to shoot them, and he told her that the Sheriff says to make sure that you get them in the head, as it's the only way to kill them.
Surely a shot to the heart would do it? That always did it. In fact, I know a boy who died from being shot in the finger.
Daddy says that he's not going to work tomorrow because of the infection. I bet he's talking about what killed Eddie Smith. I came to bed before Daddy started drinking. He scares me sometimes, and I think he scares Mommy.
Well, I hope this infection goes away real soon, and I'm going to say a prayer now for the drunken couple who Daddy had to shoot in the head.
Goodnight.
There are lots of drunken people on the farm now. Daddy shot two of them this morning because they got too close to the pigs. One of them was already eating one of Daddy's cows; he shot that one a lot. I don't know why they are doing this, but I'm scared, and I can tell that I am not the only one.
Where are they all coming from? Why are they on our farm?
What made things even worse, though, was Mrs Drewery; she was one of them, wandering up and down the field. I tried to call at her out of the window, but Daddy told me not to because it would attract more of them. He says that she is infected, and that she will probably never be able to give me another lesson. I'm not too sad about that, but I will be sad if Daddy has to shoot her in the head like he did to the cow-eater and the drunken couple.
As I am writing this, I can see Daddy out of the window. He is carrying an axe. I hope he doesn't get too close to the wanderers, just in case he catches whatever it is that they have. He told me this morning that he wouldn't catch it as long as he didn't get bit by one of them. I don't think Mrs Drewery will bite him. One of the others might, though, because I don't know who they are and they could be crazy in the head for all I know.
Daddy has just chopped the head off a man. I didn't know him, and if Daddy did then I'm not sure he liked him much. He kicked the head away, and it landed somewhere down the bottom of the field. My Daddy is strong.
Mommy is calling me now. I don't think she wants me looking out of the window anymore. I'll be back later, though, when she is in bed, although I don't think we will be doing much sleeping tonight.
Mommy didn't bother making dinner tonight. “What's the point in eating?” she said. “We're probably going to die soon, anyway.” Daddy slapped her across the face and told her to pull herself together. I don't like it when Daddy hits Mommy, but I don't think he had much of a choice this time. She was screaming and crying, and Daddy didn't want any of those people outside to hear her, so he just slapped her a good one upside the head. I don't think she's talking to him now, which Daddy says is a good thing because if she's not talking, then they can't hear her.
I ate stale bread with no butter on, and to be quite honest it wasn't that bad. I wouldn't eat it every day, but I don't see the problem once in a blue moon. Daddy didn't eat anything; he just stared out of the window with the axe in his hand. He hasn't put it down for hours. I think it's l
ike his safety-blanket.
Robbie looks as if he knows something is wrong. I can see in his eyes that he senses evil just outside the door. He barked for a little while earlier, but that was because he could see a small boy pacing past the window. I don't know who the boy was, but he was my age, maybe a little younger. The top of his head was missing, which was strange, and there was a hole in his head where his eye used to be. I would have thought it would have killed him, but he didn't look dead as he roamed around outside, mumbling to himself. I hope his Mommy and Daddy know that he is still alive. Maybe they can get his head fixed when all of this blows over. I don't know whether Doc Sawyer will be able to put him a new eye in, but I reckon that with a few stitches, the top of his head will be right as rain.
Mommy fell asleep in her rocker; I put a blanket over her, carefully. Daddy told me not to wake her up because she was apt to go crazy again, so I took extra care whilst tucking her in.
It's dark outside now, and I think most of the wanderers have gone off some place else – or at least I hope they have. Mrs Drewery would probably head on back to the schoolyard, where she works when she's not here teaching me. I can imagine her there now, roaming the yard, picking up toys that children have left lying around. I hope she's okay, and that the infection is getting better. I'm sure it will; these things always tend to blow over. For the ones that Daddy shot, though, and the man whose head Daddy chopped off with the axe, I will say a short prayer before bedtime.
I'll try to get Daddy to join in, but I doubt he will.
Goodnight Diary.
God Bless.
Robbie got out in the night! Oh, please Lord bring him back safe. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to my Robbie. He is my bestest friend in the whole wide world.
Daddy said that it was an accident, that he heard some noise coming from the barn and went to take a look. He said that there were three of them in there, wanderers, all just walking around, clattering into things. Daddy fought them, chopping of their heads. He's getting really good with that axe, and I still don't think he's put it down. It was while he was killing the three wanderers that Robbie made a dash for it. I don't know why he would have run off. Maybe he went to fetch help? I've heard of dogs being able to do that. A friend of mine, Isabel Tate – although I like to call her Izzie, and I don't think she minds – well, she fell down a well over on the Savannah farm, and nobody knew that she was down there until her dog, Potter, ran straight to the Sheriff's office and dragged him out there. It was a good job, too, because I heard that she would have only lived for another couple of hours. She was very thirsty when they pulled her out, and I've never seen anyone eat like it since.
Yes, perhaps Robbie has gone to get help, and he'll be back in a while with a whole posse of men to save us.
I hope so, because I don't think we are going to last here much longer. Daddy is starting to look tired, and Mommy is still asleep in the rocker. Every now and then I check her to make sure that she is still breathing. You never know, do you?
My stomach is starting to hurt a little bit now. I think this is what it feels like to starve. I mean, I've been hungry before, and my belly has rumbled, but this is something else. It hurts. My mouth is dry, too, and we can't get to the well to draw any water, at least not at the moment. There are too many wanderers out there. Daddy says that he will give it until noon and then he'll make a run for it, but I don't want him to. I'm thirsty, but what good will it be if he gets bitten by one of them and catches whatever plague it is that they have?
We'd all die from it.
But I know that soon we will run out of options; the sheriff is nowhere to be seen and we are in the middle of nowhere. I wonder if the people over at Redrock are infected. I know it is almost twenty miles away, but Daddy says he wouldn't be surprised if the whole of America have it. I like the way that Daddy doesn't try to sugar-coat things like Mommy; I fear that we would already be dead if Daddy wasn't here.
I am going to stare out the back window now. Hopefully Robbie will have enough sense to return through the rear fence.
I hope so.
Sheriff Colman is standing just outside the back door. Daddy says not to worry, that if he tries to get in, he will find an axe buried deep in his ceranium, whatever a cer-ay-nium is. I wonder whether the sheriff's wife is dead; the blood all over his jeans, and the strange sausage hanging around his neck make me think she is.
He's hitting the door now, and groaning in that terrible way that they all seem to. I hate that noise now. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck; it even makes my teeth vibrate, which is odd.
Daddy has just told me to go into the other room. I think it's the end for Sheriff Colman. I'll say a prayer for both him and his wife tonight.
I wonder who will be sheriff next? If it goes to a vote, I'm going to elect my Daddy; he would be the bestest sheriff there ever was.
Just heard the door swing open, and Daddy tell Sheriff Colman to, “Back the fuck off!” I think fuck is a bad word, so I won't say it too much. Daddy will tan my hide if ever he reads this.
There's a scuffle in the kitchen. I want to go take a look, but Daddy told me that whatever happens, I'm to stay in here. Besides, I am sure he will take care of the sheriff. From what I can see, Colman's not in the greatest shape of his life, moving around like a drunkard, bumping into things. Daddy will finish him easily.
Something's just crashed against the kitchen door. Oh, great! Mommy is awake now.
I have to go. She looks worried.
Daddy killed Sheriff Colman and set fire to him out the back. For some reason, Daddy says it is only right to set fire to the bodies. I don't know why; they stink, and even though the windows are all boarded up it burns my nostrils. I don't think I'll ever be able to smell normal things again.
Mommy has calmed down. She even said sorry to Daddy for being a pain in the ass, and Daddy kissed her and told her that she wasn't a pain in the ass. I think they are back together now, which is good because I need a Mommy and a Daddy, especially with what's going on outside.
Daddy says that he is definitely going to get help tomorrow, or at least find us some food and water. I hope so; we've just sat down to a meal of rice and more rice, which is okay for the first few bites but gets very boring very quickly. Daddy says that it was the last of the rice, which I am not too upset about, but I'll probably wish we had more of it come tomorrow night if Daddy comes back empty-handed.
What if he doesn't come back at all? What if, like Robbie, he just goes missing? I can't take the thought of him leaving us all alone in this prison, with those things outside scratching at the doors, trying to clamber through the windows. I think I may go crazy if ever that happens.
Mommy says that she is going to blow out the candle now, so I am going to try to sleep. Please let me have nice dreams tonight, because the days are filled with nightmares.
Goodnight Diary.
God Bless.
Daddy left early this morning. There were only three wanderers outside, and he managed to dodge them pretty easily. I watched until he disappeared over the fence, and then it dawned on me that I might never see him again. I know that is a terrible thing to be thinking, and I told myself, “Of course you will, Florence. He'll be fine, and he'll come back with enough food to last us the year,” but it didn't help much. I am scared; for my Daddy, and for us.
Mommy is getting some clothes together, just like Daddy told her to. I think we are going to move soon, provided Daddy comes home. Mommy said that we had nowhere else to go, and that we would die as soon as we walked out of the door, but Daddy was having none of it. “Woman, I promise that I will keep us alive,” Daddy said, and I believed him, though I'm not sure Mommy did.
I told Mommy that I didn't need many clothes, that I will wear what I have on now for weeks if it lightens the load, and she told me that I would be filthy dirty by the end of the week and would probably die of something called Dissentree. I wished I knew what all of these long words mean
, but from the sounds of it, it's not a very nice thing to die of.
I can hear Mommy crying as she's packing, which I don't think is a very good thing. If one of the wanderers hears her, they'll try to get in, and without Daddy here to fight them off, I don't think we'll have much of a chance.
I think Mommy has gone crazy in the head. I want to hug her, to tell her that everything is going to be okay, but she won't let me anywhere near her. Maybe she's scared of catching the infection, and she's not taking any chances, not even with her own daughter.
I don't blame her.
She's stopped crying now, and she's singing the song about stars that she used to sing to me when I was a little girl. I loved that song, but Mommy is not singing it right. She's adding curse words into it, words that I am not going to write down just in case Daddy ever reads this. I don't like being here alone with Mommy at the moment.
Please, Daddy, return home safe.
Mrs Drewery is outside again, and she looks really terrible. Her teeth are sticking out of her face, which seems to have been chewed off on the right hand side. I wonder who did that to her? Maybe she got attacked by more wanderers. Maybe she got into a fight over food. Whatever it was, she looks like something straight from the bowels of Hell.
She's bumbling around by the old barn, now. I can hear her through the windows, even though they are well boarded up; Daddy left a couple of gaps so that we could see what was happening. “We need to know when the coast is clear,” he said, “otherwise we'd just be running out into them like fools.” He was right; we'd be dead in a few minutes if that happened.
Mrs Drewery – how I wish you were normal and still my teacher – has just tripped up over some chicken-wire, and is struggling to get back to her feet. It looks funny, but I feel like crying. I hate what is happening out there, whatever it is, and I know that things are never going to get back to normal.